Six More Months
by Reachingthestaars
Summary: Steve Randle has been hiding a lot from the gang. But, when his life just keeps getting more complicated, will they be able to help him through the next 6 months? Rating just to be safe. First Outsiders Fic, please review! Give it a chance :3
1. Chapter 1

**Six More Months**

_By: Reachingthestaars_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. Warning- swearing._**

The day was dreary and chilly. I pulled my leather jacket tighter around myself and puffed on a cigerette as I sauntered down the road. Tulsa was beginning to cool down as October approached, the air becoming stinging. I spit out the cigarette and stomped it into the ground.

"Dal! You just get out if the cooler and now your already littering? Tsk tsk," I heard the goofy voice mock off to my right. Those damn cops always find an excuse to put a hood in jail. But, I guess I gave them alot of opportunities to. I glanced over at Two-Bit and smirked.

"Shut it before I give them a real reason to put me back," I threatened as we turned onto Steve's road. We were on our way to the Curtis house, it's kind of the gangs unspoken meeting place. Two-Bit laughed, earning himself an only half meant glare, which still shut him up. It amuses me that even my gang can't see when I'm seriously angry or not.

Suddenly, shouting stopped us both dead in our tracks. Being brought up like we had, our bodies went through normal procedure as we scanned for the source. It didn't take too long to locate it. The yelling was coming from Steve's house. None of us had ever actually been in his house, but we met him outside sometimes. Soda probably had been in there at least once, being his best friend and all. Steve's mom had left them three years ago. Certainly, if Steve knew anything that happened to her after that, he did not tell the gang. His relationship with his dad wasn't good, based off of how many times I found him on the Curtis' couch when I needed a place to go. But we can only guess, because he doesn't give much information on that either.

The front door suddenly flew open accompanied by a flustered looking greaser. I have been in a few rumbles with him, and flustered is not a word I would typically use to describe Steve. The red faced man, which I presumed was his dad, appeared in the doorway with two glass beer bottles in his hands. This was not the way I expected to meet Steve's dad.

"AND DON'T YOU EVER DO SOMETHING SO STUPID AGAIN," he shouted. Steve's dad raised one of his arms in preparation to throw. Steve glanced over his shoulder and ducked out of the way just in time for the bottle to whoosh past his ear. Two-Bit just stared in shock, but I allowed myself a small smirk. That was more like the member of our gang.

Before Steve even had a chance to regain his balance from his last dodge, his dad was propelling the bottle in his other hand towards him. This time the bottle hit Steve square in between his shoulder blades, causing him to fall to his knees as the bottle cracked on impact. His dad turned and slammed the door shut. The slamming broke me and Two-Bit out of our trance. We shared a glance and jogged over to Steve.

"The fuck was that man?" I questioned. Steve looked up at us shocked, not knowing we had been there. He tried to stand up and stumbled, Two-Bit steadying him.

"Ah, it's nothin'," Steve said while swatting Two-Bits arm away.

"Then why did your old man throw bottles at you?" Two-Bit questioned, his humor barely gracing his voice like it usually did. He did not know how to handle this. Steve ran a hand through his complicated curls.

"Eh, not a big deal, I'll tell ya on the way to.. uh... where are you guys going?" he asked, walking away from his house, forcing us to follow.

"Just to the Curtis'," I drawled nonchalantly.

"Oh yeah, Dal, finally out of jail!" he suddenly realized. I was about to answer, but Two-Bit cut me off.

"So that explanation Stevie-Boy," he interjected, using the irritating nick name that Steve despised. We all did actually. I would have killed Two-Bit right there for cutting me off, but I wanted an answer to his question too.

"Probably shouldn't have done it, but what the hell," he sighed. "My dad was being a bastard as usual, so I made a few adjustments to his car while he was passed out, the useless drunk." That makes sense. Steve is the best auto mechanic in town. "So I guess he tried to go to well.. whatever he does with his time and couldn't," he smirked. "But the ironic thing is, the glass that is in the drive way now will most likely flatten his tires when I finally do put that piece of junk back together."

Two-Bit let out a laugh. I smirked.

"Nice one, always use your strengths for evil," I said to him, slapping him across the back, not realizing it was right where the bottle hit. He winced and I felt a tad bad, but I would never apologize. I mean, the day Dallas Winston apologizes is the day Soc's and Greasers have a tea party together. So yeah, never. The Curtis house was now in view.

Another night of our usual antics was in store.


	2. Chapter 2

** Six More Months**

_ By: Reachingthestaars_

**Disclaimer- I do not own any of these characters. Warning: swearing. AN- I think the rest of the story will be in Steve's POV.**

It had been a long day. I love working at the DX, but sometimes after a long day of bullshitting teachers at school, it's too much. I have a reputation of being the best auto mechanic in town, so I guess that's why I'm able to do two jobs at once. My best friend, Sodapop, kind of slacks off, giving me his work load in the process. I usually don't mind, but he hadn't been at school the whole day. He dropped out during our Junior year last year. He works his full time shift until I get there for my part time, and then I get to do his work also. He just flirts with the girls.

Needless to say, when I got home I was dead tired. My car was down at the DX where I had to do some work on it, so I had to walk home. I stumbled into the house and plopped onto the closest seat, which happened to be the couch. It was only 5, but a nap sounded more than inviting. I stretched out and sighed, relieved after a long day.

Just as I was dozing off, something began to trouble my mind. To drowsy to place a finger on it, I just let sleep overtake me. The wake up call was enough to remind me. One second was I was dreaming about Evie coming home, since she is out of town, and the next second something is slamming into my face at full force. I shot up holding my throbbing face, completely confused. That is, until I look over and see my dad standing over the couch with a closed fist.

"What are you doing?" I asked against my better judgement. He would probably get madder, but I was pretty mad myself.

"What am I doing?" he spat, "What the hell do you think your doing?" Now I was thoroughly confused.

"All I was doing was sleeping on the couch after a long day of actually doing work! That's more than you can say!" I retorted, voice rising.

"On my couch? Who do you think you are?" he said, voice rising also.

"I think I'm your son, and this house is more of mine than yours! I can barely make the rent each month with my paycheck and your unemployment!" I yelled stepping towards him. Even being a few feet away from him, I could smell the strong stench of alcohol wafting off of him. I knew this could not turn out well.

"Oh you are no son of mine you piece of shit!" he bellowed, stepping closer to me. I instinctively took a step back, hitting into the front door.

"All the better," I muttered, spitting in his direction.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he yelled suddenly while picking up two glass beer bottles from the floor. He had a large selection, considering the vast amount of empty bottles littering the room. The sudden burst of noise startled me. I jumped around and fumbled with the door for a second before I got it to open.

I flew out in a panic and glanced around just in time to see my dad raise his arm with said bottle in hand. I lunged to my left and heard the wind from the bottle as it flew past my ear and over my shoulder. My mind was full of relief, but it was short lived. My back suddenly flared up in pain, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. The sudden impact caused me to stumble foward onto my knees.

I heard my dad yelling something and a door slam, but I paid him no heed. The sound of running feet barely registered in my mind, until I heard Dally's voice question "The fuck was that man?" I looked up into the confused faces of Two-Bit and Dallas.

I tried to get up, but I guess my balance was still alittle off, because I stumbled until Two-Bit steadied me. I tried to brush the incident off, but Two-Bit was not going to let that happen. I just wanted to get away from my house at the moment, and their destination of the Curtis' sounded like a great idea. But something wasn't right.. then it clicked.

"Oh yeah, Dal, finally out of jail!" I realized. I didn't even know why he was put in jail and was curious to find out, but Two-Bit wouldn't have it. His annoying voice broke in, saying "So that explanation, Stevie-Boy."

We all hate that name but he doesn't seem to care. I gave him some bullshit story that actually sounded plausible, and they both seemed to buy it. I must have grown into a good liar, because even Dally seemed convinced.

"Nice one, always use your strengths for evil," he congratulated, slapping me on the back. I winced but hoped he didn't notice. We turned onto the Curtis' road. We all lived pretty close to each other. From three houses down, you could already hear their T.V and music blasting, and the gang wasn't even there yet. It should be a good night.

Two-Bit bounded ahead like a three year old and burst through the front door. Dally and I strolled in moments after. The warmth of the living room felt good, since I didn't have time to grab my jacket during my rush out of the house. Two-Bit had already made himself comfortable in front of the T.V on the couch next to Soda. They were wrangling for the remote. Ponyboy and Johnny were sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a book. Darry was sitting on an armchair reading the paper. How he ever expected to concentrate, I'll never know. Soda glanced up at us as we walked in and flashed a smile. This action cost him the battle for the remote, and we could all look foward to a night full of horrible programs selected by Two-Bit.

"Hey guys!" he greeted cheerfully.

"Hey," I replied, walking over and plopping in front of the couch at Soda and Two-Bits feet and facing the T.V. Dally walked over and took a seat at the kitchen table near Ponyboy and Johnny.

"Nice to have you back, Dally," Darry commented, not looking up from his paper.

"Good to be back," he replied while spreading out on his chair.

"So what's up guys?" Soda inquired. This is it. Time to see if Dally and Two-Bit would mention what happened. I turned my head away from the T.V to look at everyone.

"Not much," Dally answered. I was in the middle of visibly sighing in relief before I realized what I was doing. I tried to stop midway but ended up looking like I was choking on air. Quickly I turned to hide my face again.

"What happened to your face, Steve?" Johnny asked me quietly. Damn kid, always so observant. Good thing I'm quick on my feet. It came in handy for the second time that day.

"I tried to lift someone's hub caps while they were turned around. Nearly made it too. Nearly," I answered easily. Ponyboy gave me a suspicious look, and I countered it with a glare.

"Nice one," Soda congratulated by playfully hitting me upside the head. "Now who wants to go and find some fun?"

Just like my best friend, helping distract me from my thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Six More Months**_

_By: Reachingthestaars _

**Disclaimer- I do not own the Outsiders. AN- Hey! Sorry if this took long, but I think the chapter is a decent length. I have alot of important testing but they will be all done by the end of the week so woot woot :3 All feedback appricaiated, this is my first Outsiders Fic so give me advice! I have an exam tomorrow so wish me luck! Thanks for reading!**

The dull hum of the mini-refrigerator was the only noise that penetrated the heavy silence. The silence was both welcomed and unexpected. Usually, Saturdays were unrelenting with work. But today, it was slow, and this developement was greeted with open arms.

The only work I had done all day was on a Mustang. The car was beautiful, whoever dared to neglect it was a fool. The light blue paint job complimented the black leather seats wonderfully, the problems being under the hood. The car had obviously not been tended to since purchase, showing in its condition.

I sauntered over and sat on the chair behind the counter, propping my feet on its surface and leaning my head back with closed eyes. It was the first time since the bottle-throwing event last week that I had relaxed. Dally and Two-Bit had not mentioned it or seemingly thought of it either. Since then, my relationship with my dad had been deteriorating. This thought put a scowl on my face. Sure, this wasn't the first time my dad had done something like that. In fact, all of my memories of him were like that, his behaviors eventually driving my mother away. My scowl deepened. She just up and left, leaving me to deal with my dad solo. Hadn't heard from her since. But, my relationship with my dad had stayed the same, never escalating nor relenting. That is, until this past week.

The ding of the bell that indicates the opening of the door broke the silence. I pondered if it was worth it or not to open an eye to see if it was a customer who entered. Before I could make a decision, a voice broke me out of my musings.

"What's got your panties in a bunch?" Soda questioned. I opened my eyes to see his goofy grin covered as he blew on his hands in attempt to warm them.

"The cold I guess," I lied, quirking an eyebrow.

"At least you don't gotta go and fill up gas outside. Your lucky you got that car as an excuse.. which shouldn't you be working on?" he inquired misceiviously. I rolled my eyes at him and chucked a nearby bag of chips at his head. To my dismay, he managed to dodge it.

"Just waiting for a few parts now," I replied, closing my eyes once more. I was disturbed by a newspaper hitting my face.

"Oh, you're in for it now," I spat, trying to fake anger and failing miserably. Soda glanced around as I stood up, his face lighting up as he looked out the door.

"Oh look a car wants gas! Gotta go!" he cheered, scampering out the door. I sighed and grinned at my best friends antics, sitting back down and picking up the newspaper that had previously been Soda's weapon off the floor.

Finding no better option, I casually flipped through it, until an ad caught my eye. It was for an apartment in Tulsa, right in the neighborhood. It was available and did not cost too much. Of course, just because it was cheap didn't mean I could afford it. Well, at least not on my current salary. Soda walked back in cautiously, not sure if our battle would continue or not. But I was too distracted with the possibility of getting my own place, away from the monster I called my father.

"Hey Soda, how much do you make a week?" I asked suddenly.

"Uhm, $ 450, why so suddenly interested?" he wondered, sitting on the edge of the counter. I just grinned like an idiot. The apartment cost $1,000 a month. All I had to do is get a full time job here and I was free. I was confident the boss would hire me, being so good at working on cars. I just had to drop out of school. I don't do good in school anyway, and wouldn't need the education once Soda and I opened our own garage.

"Hellooo, earth to Steve, our shift is over," Soda tried to get my attention, waving his hand slowly in front of my face.

"Uh, okay, one sec," I finally answered, ripping the ad out of the newspaper and shoving it into my pocket.

"Hey, you rip it you buy it," he teased, punching my shoulder lightly as we walked out of the station. I turned to walk to my car.

"See ya," I said, punching him back.

"See ya, Stevie-Boy," he attempted to punch me again. I frowned slightly at the nick name Two-Bit seemed to be spreading and jumped out of the path of Sodas punch. The last thing we needed was to start a good-natured brawl in the DX parking lot.

I was just grateful that my car was now fixed and drivable. The car cut my travel time home in half, especially because of my liberal view on speed limits. When my house came in view I sighed in relief, noting the absence of my dad's car. Now, everytime he saw my face he would find an excuse to beat on me. Sometimes, even finding an excuse was too much effort.

I walked in and slammed the door, throwing my jacket on the floor and going to the safety of my room before my dad came home. I slammed my door and glanced around my room. It was a mess of clothes and clutter that I had aquired over the years. Luckily, my bed was clear of it. Throwing off my DX shirt, I jumped and belly flopped on my bed from my position near the door. I turned over to stare at the ceiling, putting my hands behind my head and crossing my legs.

The heater made a faint rattle as it tried in vain to warm the bitter house. The sound of birds chirping had deacresed with the oncome of fall and even more so with the sun leaving the sky to trek beneath the horizon. The sound of neighborhood kids playing came faintly from the left, probably caught up in an irritating game. This is the lullaby I heard as I began to doze. My thoughts muddled together in this state, and the next thing I knew my door slammed open.

I sat up quickly and looked towards the doorway. My dad was standing there, eyes blazing. He was a big man, around 6'2, muscular in the arms, having a slight beer gut in his middle. He had a paper in one of his meaty hands. My view of the hallway was completely obscured by his burley figure. Boy, did he have a knack of waking me up. The other day when I fell asleep on the couch, I couldn't have expected anything else from him. But it was rare for him to actually come upstairs and into my room. I guess I wasn't worth the effort. He held up the paper slowly and menacingly. It took me a second to register that it was the ad. It must have flown out of my pocket when I threw my jacket on the floor. Damn. Better turn up the sarcasm.

"And what caused you to drag your old carcass up here? Happy to see me?" I asked in feigned calmness.

"The hell is this," he questioned, cutting out small talk, "you can't just leave along with your paycheck."

"Watch me," I replied shortly. He pulled his other hand out from behind his back, which I hadn't even realized was behind his back in the first place. In it was a broken baseball bat, probably grabbed from the pile of junk that hid our floors from view. By the look in his eyes, he had full intention to use it. And I mean full.

He began to walk towards me slowly, wielding the weapon and smirking oddly. By the stumble in his steps, I could tell he was more than a little tipsy. How he hauled himself up the stairs is a mystery. But he was nearing me, and now was not a time to ponder that. I stood up from the bed and stepped backwards into the corner, as far away from him as possible. Glancing around my room, I assessed my options.

Although he had moved away from the door way, there was still no way around my dad. It was times like these I wished I had inherited some more of his height.

Just as I thought I might have to just sit there and take it, I spotted the window. It was across the room, slightly open, and to my luck, had no screen. I quickly darted past my dad towards it. It was times like these I'm happy I hadn't inherited his height. Being more agile than him, especially in his inebriated state, I made it past him to the window. He took a swing at me, but I didn't notice if he made any contact or not. I was already flinging the window open and halfway out.

It was at this moment that I realized my room was on the second floor. Too bad I was already out of the window. I grabbed desperately at the tree near my window to slow my fall, but it did not work well. The branches slipped out of my grip and I landed on my ankle in an awkward position with a thump.

The grass had a slight frost on it which sparkled in the moons glow. I glanced around from my spot on the ground but didn't see much. It was pitch black outside. As my heart rate and adrenaline began to return to normal, I noticed a dull pain in the back of my head. I reached back and found a bump that felt slick with blood. I groaned in irritation. Guess my dad had better aim when I dashed to the window than I thought. I tried to stand, using the tree as support, and immediately had to sit again due to the pain radiating from my ankle. Figures.

I glance up to see the light in my room go off. My breath hitches in my throat. If my dad decides to come out here I'm screwed, unable to escape. I sit on the ground barely moving for what seems like hours. It was probably only ten minutes, but it's enough to show my dad isn't determined to use that bat. I sigh. Even witnessing his son jump out of a second story window and not moving afterwards isn't enough to make him care. Not that I care. I'm fine with the fact he hates me...

Now that I'm sure I'm safe, it's time to think of what I am going to do next. It's a chilly night, and I'm already beginning to shiver. My ankle doesn't seem broken, but I still won't get too far on it as it is.

Then I get an idea. I pull off the shirt that I had had on under my DX shirt. The sudden increase of cold makes me shudder. Just as I'm about to wrap it around my ankle, I hesitate. I can't tell how much my head is bleeding in the darkness, but better safe then sorry. I rip the T-shirt with ease and wrap half around my head and half around my ankle. I try to stand again. It still hurts, but much less than the last time I attempted to get up. Meaning, now I can walk.

Now, a destination. There is no way in hell I am going back into my house. Even I'm not that stupid. I can't stay outside all night, I don't know if I can even stay outside much longer. I have to think fast. The Curtis's. It must be late, but I don't really have any other option. I push off the tree and stumble towards the direction of their house. Good thing they are close, and good thing our side of town has no street lamps. I don't really need anyone seeing me right now.

I breathe a sigh of relief when their familiar house comes into view. My ankle was really protesting this movement, but I was almost there anyway. A dog in someone's yard begins to bark at me, and I growl back. Why can't it mind its own business? Great, now I'm questioning a dog.

I stumble up their steps as quietly as possible. All of the lights in the house are out. Their house is always open, so hopefully I won't wake anyone up when I come in. I push the door open silently and slip in, shutting it gently behind me.

I glanced around their living room, which is lit up with a pale glow coming from a nightlight plugged into their wall. I smirk. One time I questioned Darry about the nightlight, and he swore he would have been up to his neck in medical bills if he didn't have it. I could imagine Soda or Pony crashing into a wall in the darkness. No matter how silly it looked, I was grateful for it now. I glanced at the all too familiar couch and noted Dally wasn't on it. Looks like I won't have to sleep on the floor. I rubbed my hands together, relishing the warmth of the house. I walked over and sat on the couch, happy I hadn't bothered anyone. But, I spoke too soon. Just then, the hallway light came on.

"Alright, I have three guesses, and one is already crossed off my list," Soda's drowsy voice came from down the hall. "A robber would have seen nothing to steal and left, so that leaves Steve or Dally."

He appeared in the doorway and rubbed sleep from his eyes. Damn, these Curtis's must have crazy good hearing. He glanced at me and muttered, "Ah, it was my first guess," then did a double take, rubbing his eyes again.

Taking a look at me, he seemed to instantly wake up. He flicked on the living room light. Seems like he's not afraid to wake anyone.

"Steve, you better have a good explanation, cause you should see what I see right now," he commented, coming further into the room and sitting down next to me. I can't really blame him for his request. Imagine if you found your best friend on your couch in the middle of the night, shivering slightly, shirtless, and having only one eye visible under the half a shirt he has tied around his head. Yeah, might strike your curiosity. I opened my mouth, then closed it. What was I going to say? Some Soc's pushed me out of a second story window? My brow furrowed. Soda is my best friend, and it is kind of unfair to keep such a big secret from him.

"Alright, I'll tell you real truth, if you don't get mad," I sighed finally. I knew Soda would never be mad at my not telling him all these years, but I was nervous nevertheless. This is my biggest secret we are talking about here. He looked like a little kid getting presents on Christmas. He leaned in and got a glint of hope in his eye.

"Anything Steve, I won't get mad," he reassured me quickly. Just as I took another breath to speak, we heard a commotion coming from the direction of Soda's room. Pony must be having another nightmare. Soda glanced between me and the hallway, contemplating what to do.

I sighed and waved him off, "Go on."

He gave me one last disappointed look, then said sternly, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

He got off the couch and quickly disappeared down the hallway. I chuckled slightly at the irony of him telling me to stay. I don't think I could leave if I wanted. I was about to tell the my biggest secret to somebody for the first time, and Ponyboy found a way to screw it up even in his sleep. How can he manage to be a tag-a-long even while sleeping?

The comfort of the couch and warmth of the house made me painfully aware of how tired I was. I stretched out on the couch, yawning loudly. I guess Soda will have to wait for his explanation. I began to doze for the second time that day, hoping I would wake up a better way than the previous time.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hey! Sorry if this took awhile. I'm just gonna write authors notes at the beginning because I'm lazy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I appreciate everyone who reads this. Any feedback is welcome. This is my first Outsiders fanfiction and the first fanfiction I ever wrote in first person, so let me know if everyone is in charactor! Thanks, hope you enjoy(:**

* * *

Someone was waking me up, so my half asleep mind automatically thought it was my father. I sprang into a sitting position and glanced around the room frantically until my eyes rested upon Sodapop, his hands raised with palms facing me in the universal 'it wasn't me' gesture. It's then that I realized I wasn't in my own home and that it was Soda waking me up, not my dad.

The memories from last night rushed back into my mind, but I wish they wouldn't. Alas, if the memories didn't remind me, my now sore muscles would. I heard the sound of someone cooking in the kitchen. I groaned mentally. I didn't want to explain myself to Sodapop, let alone his brothers.

As if he could read my mind, Soda said, "No one's come in here yet, and I thought you might want to keep it that way." He always knows what to do.

"Thanks man," I said gratefully, but tried not to let it show.

"You can take a shower here to make yourself look presentable," he said, standing from his crouching position near the couch. I simply nodded. He turned and went into the kitchen, probably buying me time to get to the bathroom.

I stood and began to strech, but stopped as my muscles screamed in protest. But, what else can you expect when you jump out a window. I walked to the bathroom as quickly as my limping would allow and shut the door behind me. Once in the bathroom, I untied my shirt from my head. I was relieved to find that there wasn't a dangerous amount of blood on it, albeit still a pretty good amount. I reached back to feel the lump gently, and it seemed to have stopped bleeding at least.

I glanced into the mirror and was slightly shocked at what I saw. My eyes looked dull and had ugly, blueish bags underneath them. My hair was a wild mess. There were some cuts and bruises on my arms I hadn't noticed before, probably from grabbing at the tree on my way down. The bruise on my face from last week was fading, but still noticeable. My chest and back were free of any injuries, something I noted with happiness. This would certainly not have been the case if I hadn't jumped.

I tore my gaze away from my reflection and leaned over to untie the other half of my shirt. My ankle looked as expected. It was bruised and swollen, but could be worse. I sighed and pulled off my remaining clothes gingerly over it. I glanced around for a towel, and to my luck, saw one sitting next to the shower.

I turned on a cold shower and stepped in. The icy water did help my soreness. I let the frigid water run over my body and my mind wander. Being the pessimistic person I am, it went straight to the day my mom left. It was only the first week of freshman year.

I woke up like any other day. Still half asleep, I lugged myself out of bed and shuffled quietly down the hall. I noticed out of the corner of my eye my parents' door was open. This was usually not the case, so I back tracked a few steps and looked in. The room looked oddly clean, and I realized it was because the clutter of my mom's possessions weren't there. I saw a note on the bed next to my dad. I creeped over and read it. It explained that she was not coming back, but that was about it. I don't think my dad has been sober since. I can't tell which parent I am more angry at.

With my temper only rising with this train of thought, I decided I shouldn't keep on it. I washed the dried blood out of my hair and the dirt off of my body. I turned off the shower and dried off. I decided to wrap my shirt around my ankle before I put my jeans on, so it cannot be seen. Seeing as my shirt was in two, I would have to leave the bathroom half naked. I threw the other half of my shirt in the garbage and took a quick glance in the mirror before I left. My hair was wet and looking better. The cuts and bruises were still there of course, but didn't look as bad without dirt staining them. The shower had woken me up more and taken some of the bags under my eyes away. Deciding it was good enough, I left my towel on the toilet and left the bathroom.

I went back into the living room and surprisingly found no one in there yet. The smell of food emanating from the kitchen explained this. But I wasn't complaining. Not in the mood to socialize, I sat back down on the couch and enjoyed the solitude while it lasted, which would probably be a small amount of time. Unfortunately, I was right.

I heard Two-Bit burst into the side door that led to the kitchen, his loud voice resounding throughout the house. A minute later, he strolled into the living room with a plate full of pancakes in one hand and a beer in the other. I silently cursed his habit of eating in front of the T.V. as he sat down next to me on the couch.

He looked me over, then leaned in and whispered, "Listen Steve, I know you're pale and all, but I don't think walking around shirtless in November will help." I snorted and shook my head. "But seriously man," he continued "what's up with that?" He never got an answer due to Soda bursting into the room.

"Hey guys! We got no work today, so what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, it's a Sunday, so not too much is goin' on," Two-Bit speculated.

"We could head down to the Dingo and see what's up," I suggested.

"Sounds alright, maybe we'll catch Dally there," Soda said.

"Nope, we definatly won't," Two-Bit said absently, still watching the television and eating.

"Why not?" I questioned.

"Two words; the mailman." Soda and I began to laugh but stopped on reflex. Dally usually stopped our laughing at this subject, so we stop on our own now.

"What this time?" Soda asked, still stifling a chuckle.

"Don' really know, he said he was locked up for 48 hours. He wanted me to pick up his car from the post office," Two-Bit explained.

Dally and the mailman have been having a war for two years now. No one knows why except for the two of them. They keep trying to outdo each other. It's hilarious to watch the chronicles over time. Once, Dally stole the mail truck and hid it three towns over. Good thing he never got caught for that one.

"Alright, let's get goin' then," Two-Bit said, standing up with his now empty plate.

"Hey Pony, wanna come down to the Dingo?" Soda yelled in the direction of the kitchen. I groaned, and he gave me a pleading look in response.

"Come on, we don't have any girls with us," he whined quietly.

"Okay," I muttered. Why must he be so good at convincing people?

"Sure," we heard Ponyboy call from the kitchen. Him and Two-Bit came into the living room and we all started towards the door. I felt Pony tap me on the shoulder, and it took all my strength to not slap his hand away. I turned around, and he said, "Steve, you gon' go out like that?"

"Shoot," Soda said before I could say anything. He turned and jogged off towards his room. He returned a minute later, tossing me a worn sweatshirt he had brought with him. I threw it on and we actually left that time.

The ride there was filled with idle chit-chat, as was the time we actually spent at the Dingo. Soda and Two-Bit invited two girls to our table and were hitting it off. I didn't dare to so much as look at a girl, or Evie would skin me when she got back. Pony was awkwardly sitting there too, so at one point we got into a glaring contest. I won of course.

After a few hours, we decided to go back to the Curtis'. I think I hid my limping pretty well, since no one questioned me. It was around dinner time when we got back, and Darry was just setting the table. After dinner, Two-Bit, Soda, and I started a game of cards.

"Hey, I see you Soda!" Two-Bit exclaimed, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at him.

"See what?" Soda asked innocently. I had to look down at the table to hide my laughing. I had been helping Soda cheat just to get on Two-Bit's nerves, and the fact he got caught was just a bonus. Two-Bit dashed around the table and tackled him. I was rooting for Soda to win this wresting match. Two-Bit had done a fair amount of cheating in that game also, but I think it's more interesting to not point it out, and let Soda or whoever else is playing find out on their own. The phone started ringing, and Darry came into the kitchen to answer it.

"Steve, it's for you," he called over, holding the phone out to me. Slightly confused, I stepped over Two-Bit and Soda to grab it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," I heard the voice answer.

"Evie? Why are you calling this house?" I asked.

"I have been calling yours all day, no answer."

"Oh sorry, I've been over here."

"I figured," she replied.

"So what's up?"

"Well.. I had something important to tell you but now I don't think it's the right time," she said hesitantly.

"What? I'm sure it's fine, just tell me," I said quickly.

"Maybe in a few days."

"But you'll see me in person in a few days," I said, confused.

"Well-," she started, but suddenly I didn't hear anything, as soon as Two-Bit and Soda rolled too close to me. I looked down and saw they had torn out the phone wire. I didn't know Evie's hotel room phone number, so I was going to have to wait to interrogate her, which might be a few days. Frustrated, I jumped on top of the two of them and joined the fight.

This probably went for a couple of minutes until Darry broke it up, concerned for the safety of his house. Just before he broke it up, I hit my ankle on a side table. I gritted my teeth and used all my will power to not grab it or call out.

While we were still sitting on the floor catching our breath, Darry asked me, "What was that phone call about?"

"I have no idea," I growled, "thanks to these two disconnecting the call!"

"Eh, sorry 'bout that," Soda said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Whatever," I sighed


End file.
